Slap
by GlacierWhite
Summary: Emma slaps Mr. Knightley across the face!
1. Chapter 1

Extending Fall to a long story seems quite a project, so just do something simpler. :D

In here Mr. Woodhouse is less valetudinarian, so Emma visits town regularly. And Mr. Wickham is borrowed from P&P for certain reasons.

* * *

"Mrs. Knightley, so delighted to see you again!"

"Mr. Wickham, how are you! What a surprise to see you here."

"It's been a long time. I trust you and your family are all in great health."

"We're very well, thank you Mr. Wickham. Have you been in town for long?"

"Oh no, just arrived yesterday. But I will stay here for some time, for business. And I always remembered the great help and kindness Mr. Knightley has rendered to us."

"You are too polite, Mr. Wickham, it's nothing. I believe Mr. Knightley was very glad to be helpful. He always wishes to do something for the soldiers who sacrificed themselves for the country."

"Yes, I'm very much convinced that Mr. Knightley is just what a man ought to be."

"You are very kind, Mr. Wickham. Do you enjoy the party?"

"Very much indeed! Every arrangement is wonderful, the decoration, the light, the food. And all guests are polite and friendly, not to mention the lovely and amiable ladies. And they say that most brilliant young lady, who is now dancing with Sir Blake, is your sister."

"Yes!" watching Emma whirling in the dance floor like a moving rosa rugosa, drawing admiration from almost every gentleman, Isabella could not be more affectionate as a proud sister.

"Emma!" When the music was over, Emma looked around and came happily to her sister. "This is Mr. Wickham." Isabella motioned to the handsome young captain standing by her side, "My sister, Emma Woodhouse."

"So glad to make you acquaintance, Miss Woodhouse."

"How do you do, Mr. Wickham."

"I have heard so much about you, Miss Woodhouse, your goodness and accomplishments."

"You flattered me, Mr. Wickham," Emma laughed, "I know many truly accomplished young women and would like to introduce you to them if you wish."

"If I have the luck and chance. But for now my only wish is that you could do me the honor of dancing with me for the next."

"My pleasure."

"So you have known John and Isabella for years."

"Literally yes, but not quite. We only intersected for once and I seldom came to town."

"Where do you live?"

"I do not possess an estate or even a house, I stay at military bases."

"Military bases? Must be very attractive."

"Yes, energetic and aspiring, very different from the prosperity of town and the tranquility of country."

"Which one do you like best then?"

"I like them all, each in its own way is irreplaceable."

"Ha, you are very insatiable, Mr. Wickham." said Emma playfully.

"Then which one do you like better, Miss Woodhouse, London or the country?"

"I like Highbury best." Emma stated without a tiny hesitation.

"I'm not lucky enough to have ever been there, but I'm sure it's a very pleasant place with very amiable people."

"You are right, it is indeed."

"I grew up in a grand country house too, with splendid landscapes and kindest people. The late master of the estate was my godfather and loved me like a second son, patronizing me to Cambridge and even leaving me a living in the church."

"But you are not a parson now for sure?"

"No, I'm not. It's a less pleasant story and all my connections to my childhood home has now dissolved thoroughly. But to respect the late kind gentleman I'd rather never reveal the truth again."

...

* * *

"How do you like Mr. Wickham, Emma?"

"He is pleasant, amiable, conversable, has very good manners and characters, very well bred, seemingly very well educated too. He has great experiences on travels, social matters and personal affairs, willing to talk and also talked in a very open and honest way... In every respect he is perfect, faultless.

"And extremely handsome too."

"Yes, very handsome, I hardly see any man handsomer than him, features or figure. But..."

"But what?"

"I don't know. Something is just not right."

"Perfect to a fault?"

"Perhaps." Emma furrowed her eyebrows, trying to figure out what was perplexing her, what's wrong with this universally admired young man. "He is very open and very modest, being satisfied with and giving compliments to almost everyone and everything he encountered, even the evils can remind him to cherish the merits more.

"That's a very rare virtue I dare say."

"Maybe. But I just got an odd feeling, a very odd feeling that it's only a disguise."

"Disguise? Disguise for what?"

"Boasting. Boasts covered by his disarming modesty. He seems too eager to show all his merits to the whole world at one time." Emma raised her eyebrow, seemingly having done with being interested in this new acquaintance, and simply concluded, "Mr. Knightley will never talk too much about himself, especially to the ones he meets for the first time."

* * *

"John, I believe you need to talk to George."

"About what?"

"He has too much influence on Emma."

"Is that bad?"

"Generally not, but..."

"But?"

"Emma has raised her standards of men so high that no one could delight her eyes, let alone her heart."

"You are not considering an alliance with Mr. Wickham?"

"Of course not, it's a pity that he's not Emma's equal. But Emma's opinion of him is a dangerous sign, what else kind of character can satisfy her, saving your brother's? I don't want Emma to become a spinster for sure."

"What do you wish me to do then? Talk George into being mean and wicked?"

Isabella laughed, "It seems a hopeless case."


	2. Chapter 2

"Good evening Miss Woodhouse, I was worrying that I wouldn't see you tonight."

"Mr. Wickham, sorry I'm late. My sister and brother in law have another engagement so I was awaiting a friend who can be with me tonight."

"May I have the pleasure to be introduced to your friend?"

"Certainly, but he is not here now. He went to the host directly when we arrived, business."

"I thought your friend you could be with is a lady." Mr. Wickham looked a little surprised.

"Oh no, it's Mr. Knightley."

"Mr. Knightley? Is he a family of your brother?"

"I am sorry Mr. Wickham, I didn't know Isabella hasn't tell you. Yes, Mr. Knightley is my brother, Mr. John Knightley's brother, my neighbor and oldest friend."

"Oh, and Mrs. Knightley, I mean Mr. Knightley's wife isn't here with you together?"

"Mr. Knightley doesn't have a wife, he hasn't married." Emma laughed, feeling amused at Mr. Wickham's confusion.

"I beg your pardon. But Mr. John Knightley has had five children to my knowledge?"

"Yes, he married my sister eight years ago. But although Mr. Knightley is six years my brother's senior, he isn't married and doesn't intend to at all."

"Then he must be a man with a greatly occupied mind."

"Indeed he is. He has friends, neighbors, tenants, accounts, letters, books, estates, farms, businesses, parish affairs and so on to tend to, way too busy to put any thoughts on matrimony."

"A very noble and responsible man indeed."

"Thank you Mr. Wickham." Emma grinned lovely, she always felt happy when Mr. Knightley got the credit he deserved.

"Oh there he is." Emma cried and led Mr. Wickham through half the crowded room, "Mr. Knightley, this is Mr. Wickham, John and Isabella knew him years ago."

"Good Evening Mr. Knightley, it's my honor."

"How are you Mr. Wickham. Did you come to town lately? I never saw you before."

"Yes, just arrived a few days ago, from the north."

"The weather is very different. I hope you can adapt to the change and enjoy your stay here."

"Thank you Mr. Knightley, I believe I will, people here are extremely friendly. And if you don't mind, may I ask Miss Woodhouse to dance for this one?"

"Of course, please." He took a look at Emma and nodded his consent.

"There must be many women thinking of him I dare say, such person, and looks a lot younger than you declared him to be!"

"I don't know," smiled Emma, "but all his acquaintances know him well, and Mr. Knightley never gives any woman the idea of his feeling for her more than he does. That's why he's safe I believe."

"It's a great loss to your sex then."

Emma laughed, making no comments about it. She didn't really want him to be married. After all no one could be better than him and so she herself would end up being an old maid any way.

"May I see you again at tomorrow's dinner held by Mrs. Milton?"

"I'm afraid not. Tomorrow I should go home, will set off right after breakfast."

"So soon?"

"I have been staying here for three days and already missed my farther dreadfully."

"Then will you come back to London next week?"

"Not next week, next month. I cannot leave my father so often."

"I'm truly sorry to hear that. But how fortunate Mr. Woodhouse is to have a daughter like you."

"My Farther is dearest to me and he loves me so much."

"Then he will send his carriage for you tomorrow?"

"No, Mr. Knightley is here to take me back. My father will be uneasy if I travel alone, even for only three hours and in his own carriage."

"I think you just said Mr. Knightley is very busy."

"Yes he is." Emma grinned lovely, "But I'm his friend, so I'm part of his busyness."

* * *

"Emma, what do you think of Mr. Wickham?"

"You're the second one who asked my opinion of him these two days, why are you all interested in him?"

"Who's the first?"

"Isabella of course."

"Isabella?" Cried Mr. Knightley, "Why did she ask you about him? What did she say?"

"She said he's extremely handsome."

"Hum, and?"

"Perfect to a fault, having his virtue."

"She should know better of him." Muttered Mr. Knightley, "And what did you say?"

"I said he is amiable, pleasing, conversable, gentleman-like, well bred, well educated, open, honest, modest and... all in all, perfect indeed." Emma grinned mischievously, enjoying Mr. Knightley's countenance changing from surprised to stunned to alarmed at last.

"Emma, don't be so naive to be caught by his appearance, he is not the sort of man you were describing."

"Mr. Knightley, I have been talking to him a great deal during the last two days, at least two or three hours altogether. And you? No more than three sentences. Where do you get your confidence to judge my judgment?"

"Emma, I'm sixteen years older than you, and the experience from the magistracy grants me a better sense to discern the true nature beneath its deceitful appearance."

"It's unjust to determine he is deceitful by far, Mr. Knightley."

"Alright, but at least he is not as frank as he showed to be."

"I'd like to know, Mr. Knightley, how could you discern his unfrankness from the merest conversation occurred between you two?"

"His eyes, Emma, eyes always speak more truth than mouths do. His eyes told me that he is concealing something disreputable."

Emma curled her lip, clearly unconvinced. "Your theory is irrefutable Mr. Knightley, even if I don't buy it. But now I'd like to ask you something else, may I?"

"Certainly, go on!"

"Has any young man I know ever acquired any of your good opinion? Mr. Sterling, I remember, to be dependent and spineless, Mr. Hawk selfish and suspicious, Colonel Willard rude and thoughtless, Mr. Reed too sheepish, Mr. Van irresolute, amiable Frank Churchill was blamed to be plausible and wanting of a sense of responsibility, as to Mr. Forster, do you remember what you said about him?"

"Who is Mr. Forster?"

Emma rolled her eyes, "Sir Forster's son, whom you nitpicked for being tongue-tied. Are you serious Mr. Knightley?"

"I believe I was objecting for his sake, what chance does he have when quarreling with you?" Mr. Knightley tried not to smile, while Emma couldn't help giggling at his jocular comments.

"So, there's no worthy man at all in the world in your opinion?"

"Of course there is!"

"For instance?"

"John is good."

"I thank you Mr Knightley, for Isabella's sake."

"And me too."

Emma began to giggle again, more amusedly, "I never doubt that, Mr. Knightley!"

"To be serious Emma. I may be unjust to some of the men you just spread out, but this Mr. Wickham, I'm ninety-nine percent sure that he should not be readily trusted."

Emma might enjoy teasing or irritating him from time to time, but could never bear to make him truly worry or unhappy, "Don't worry Mr. Knightley, actually I hold the same opinion about him as you do."

"Really?"

Emma was provoked by his obvious suspicion, "Ask Isabella, I told her straightway the day she asked me!"

"That's very impressive. It seems you do not need my custody anymore?"

"No, I could never be without your advantage of sixteen years' experience, Mr. Knightley!"

"Good! " he grinned, looking quite satisfied.

"Ah, we are home." Mr. Knightley let out a cheerful cry, jumping out of the carriage and reaching out his hand, "If you please, my dear Emma."

* * *

Many thanks for the tips! Indeed I didn't know the etiquette of addresses. I thought the first name is added only for the sake of avoiding confusion (at the beginning of this fic I did try to play a trick and confuse you a little bit that Emma may have married Mr. Knightley :D).

But then I have two further questions:

First, if Mr. Knightley isn't married, could Isabella be addressed Mrs. Knightley or only when talking face to face? (Mrs. Weston once calls Isabella 'my dear Mrs. Knightley'.)

Secondly, should John be introduced every time to others as Mr. John Knightley to indicate his identity of being the younger son? (my original idea here is that Wickham doesn't know the existence of Mr. Knightley at first.)


	3. Chapter 3

"You're one hour late today, Emma." On hearing the footsteps, Mr. Knightley pointed out fastidiously without turning round.

Emma made no immediate reply however, she was experiencing the subtle feeling of seeing him sitting there and reading at this early time of day. "Does it matter? You seem very well entertained by yourself."

"But I'm hungry," putting the book aside, he turned to face her and complained,"the food last night was terrible."

Emma frowned, "You know you can ask whatever you need at Hartfield as easily as at Abbey, right? Why didn't let Mrs. Hall or anyone get you something to eat?"

"I will have my breakfast at Abbey if I want to eat alone."

"Father never gets up this early, you still have to wait if you don't want to eat alone."

"I'm expecting you to distract me a little bit, thus I'll forget the fact that I've been hungry."

Emma rolled her eyes, "Are you sure you don't need some tea and a scone maybe for now?"

Mr. Knightley ignored her offer, eyeing a crafted side table next to the sofa, "I remember you planned to finish that book before next time going to London?"

"Yes, I'm working on it."

"Diligently?"

"Diligently!"

"But it's the same page the night before last, and still two thirds left when days have passed two thirds." He looked back at her, smiling, "What did you do yesterday when I was away?"

…

"You can tell me you were playing."

"But I wasn't."

"Hum, a honest girl."

…

"Alright, if you can sit and read it now till your father comes down, I'll say nothing more of it."

Throwing herself into the sofa, Emma pouted and picked up the book, but immediately cheered up again before opening it, "You said the food last night was terrible, what did they prepare for you?"

"I'll tell you later at breakfast Emma, but now…" Mr. Knightley cast a look at her book.

"I'm telling you Mr. Knightley, I miss Miss Taylor, seriously!"

Mr. Knightley only grinned quietly, turning back to his own book.

* * *

"Here it is." Emma led Mr. Knightley snaking through the garden to the edge of a parterre, where a bed of roses were planted, vivid and blooming. Among them, however, one with a very rare color, light green, was withering. "What problem do you think it has got? All others are growing perfect well."

Mr. Knightley touched the faded petals with regret, he always loved roses the best of all flower species, so brilliant and fervent, making tedious normal days brighter.

"Any thoughts?"

"Why do you ask me? I mean, you have Jerry, admitted the best gardener at Highbury."

"It wouldn't end up like this If he knows what to do with it,."

"Then you think I know more of gardening than him?"

"Of course you know more, your book shelves are bigger than his house."

"I appreciate your trust, Emma, but I have not at all an idea how to deal with her." He touched the petals gently again like mourning a dying pretty girl, "And everyone has his own merits and advantages, shouldn't be underrated on account of rank or condition."

Realizing what he was talking about, Emma pouted and turned away, "I shouldn't give you the chance to lecture me again on the same day."

Mr. Knightley laughed at her huff, "I'm not lecturing you my dear Emma, just sharing with you something I know and you don't. Come, show me your newest favorite piece, a golden yellow I guess?"

"Speaking of sharing...may I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Hmm... what do you men talk about when the ladies leave the dinning room?"

With a little surprise Mr. Knightley replied simply, "Politics, wars."

"Anything else? I remember once you mentioned, last time when we quarreled, what Mr. Elton was talking in unreserved moments, young ladies of a large family?"

Mr. Knightley looked grave now, "May I ask Emma, what makes you ask?"

"I overheard a conversation among a few ladies at an assembly last time in London, I'm just curious."

"Emma, you should't listen when people talk in private."

"I didn't listen, they sit right there next to me and made no effort at all to keep their voice down. I could not but hear them!"

"Alright, then who were they? And what were they talking about?"

"Lady Helena, Mrs. Kessel, and another lady I don't know. They were talking about..." Emma stopped abruptly while cheeks turned slight red, "nothing, I... I forget."

"Well Emma, I won't ask you further and am not going to tell you what men talk about either." hesitating a moment he added carefully, "Also I hope you will not ask other man this question ever again."

"Of course I will not, not even John." with deep red shade suffusing her cheeks, Emma spluttered hastily, "Do you really believe I don't know what propriety means and will pose such a question to whomever I'm acquainted with? I asked you only because you are... you are... you are exceptional and willing to tell me things I don't know."

"Alright Emma, I apologize," he took her hands to conciliate her, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. But could you promise me one more thing? Keep your distance from those ladies you just mentioned. They're not your peers and do not deserve any of your regards and intimacy."

"Alright, I promise you."

"Good girl! Well, we should go back now," Mr. Knightley offered his arm, "or your father will worry what happened to you."

* * *

"Oh Emma my dear you are back. - Mr. Knightley. - Guess who has arrived during your absence."

"Mr. Weston! Does your son come back, Mr. Churchill?"

"No, not Frank, but another excellent young man you know." Mr. Weston got out of their way excitedly to let Emma catch sight of the unexpected guest who had now risen from his seat opposite Mr. Woodhouse.

"Mr. Wickham!"

* * *

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

And yes brother in law is accurate. But perhaps the same it's not practical all the time and since brother sounds much better than brother in law (:D) and John is referred to as brother several times in the book too, I just amended the first mentioning to indicate his identity and left the others unchanged~


	4. Chapter 4

As for the way the two converse, I believe I was inspired by the 2009 BBC mini series chiefly, in which Mr. Knightley does behave less solemn and always makes Emma giggle. He has even asked Emma to be the Mistress of Donwell Abbey, just in an ambiguous way and so Emma doesn't get it. :D

* * *

"Emma my dear, why didn't you tell me that you have made Mr. Wickham acquaintance, and Mr. Wickham knows Isabella too? We should have long ago invited Mr. Wickham to dine with us."

Freezing on the spot, Emma hardly believed what she just heard came out of her father's mouth. Everybody knew Mr. Woodhouse was fond of old patterns and hated change of any kind. He never initiated a fresh invitation before and would not even think of one without Emma's suggestion. Emma took a quick glance at Mr. Knightley who had seated himself in his usual chair, but detected no changes in emotion from his poker face. She forced a smile at Mr. Wickham and looked back at her father, "I thought it would trouble Mr. Wickham too much to come to dine with us from London. But this Friday will be fine, or tomorrow maybe? Today is too late for preparation."

"Please, Miss Woodhouse, do not trouble yourself on my account. I should be off for London in one hour. I am only paying Mr. Weston a half day visit, but even without his being your good friend, I thought it's highly uncivil if I fail to come and bid Mr. Woodhouse and you a good day. And it's my honor to meet Mr. Knightley again which I haven't expected yet."

"You're very kind to think of us Mr. Wickham. But why are you going so soon? London is such an inconvenient distance. And Emma is the most hospitable and ablest hostess, I'm sure you can find the best fish and chicken at our dinner table."

"I'm much obliged to your hospitality, Mr. Woodhouse. And I believe Miss Woodhouse is the brilliantest young lady with all my heart. I have been traveling around and hardly saw anyone could be put on a par with Miss Woodhouse."

"Yes, yes Mr. Wickham. Emma is the most thoughtful and obedient child, clever and warm-hearted, I don't know what should I do without her."

"And very accomplished too, I never knew any young lady ever reads a book in Latin." Eyeing an open book face down on the sofa beside Emma, Mr. Wickham observed admiringly.

"I must say, Mr. Wickham, you are quite mistaken." Emma, on hearing such a conversation between her father and their guest, had blushed deeply and felt uneasy at worrying about what Mr. Knightley would feel. "Mr. Knightley is reading that book, to encourage me to read more, not me."

"Then you must have read a great deal."

"Not at all, not half so much as I am wished to."

"But you must gain more than others with your greater intelligence."

"Mr. Wickham you must excuse me, but I have a urgent letter to write which has been delayed the whole morning." Before Emma could think of something proper to say, Mr. Knightley stood abruptly and walked away to a side table placing at the far end of the room .

"Ah, that is my letter. Mr. Knightley is always so kind to help me on those kind of dreary things. I don't know how to thank him for sparing me the troublesome of dealing with tedious business."

"My dear Sir, why do you say such thing all of a sudden, making me feel like a stranger? I cannot even remember for how long I have been doing this and I'm very much glad to be helpful."

"Ah, Mr. Wickham, Mr. Knightley is the kindest neighbor and the best friend, always visits us in all weathers, in the long winter evenings especially before Isabella comes back for Christmas, making cold days warmer and pleasanter. How nice it will be if you could move into the neighborhood and visit us as frequently as Mr. Knightley do."

"I wish someday I could, sir."

Out the corner of her eye, Emma saw Mr. Knightley broke his quill and wadded and tossed the half-done letter into the trash can.

"Poor Emma, never had enough friends around, especially when Miss Taylor was taken away by Mr. Weston."

"I apologize, my dear Sir, for causing such a sad business." said Mr. Weston, smiling.

"Papa, we meet with Mrs. Weston everyday."

"And poor Isabella too, being taken all the way to London, far as the moon."

"Mrs. John Knightley is extremely good-hearted, caring so much for your health and her family's."

"Yes, Isabella and I think a lot alike, only she will share with me the wholesome gruel before bedtime. I recommend you, Mr. Wickham, a basin of thin gruel after dinner, it will do your health a great deal of good."

"I totally agree with you, sir. A basin of gruel, how wonderful a regimen it must be."

Emma saw Mr. Knightley broke his third quill.

* * *

"Miss Woodhouse, will you go to London this Friday?"

"Hasn't settled, it should be when Mr. Knightley is free to go. But I'll write to my sister in advance."

"Then hope to see you soon."

Emma smiled, "Thank you Mr. Wickham, have a safe trip."

Mr. Wickham took her hand and kissed it before taking his leave which made Mr. Knightley grind his teeth.

* * *

"I don't like him."

"I know, you have said that a hundred times. But father likes him, very much."

"I underestimated him, I never thought he would hang around with Weston and came to Hairbury, even Hartfield."

"I'm not surprised with that considering how friendly Mr. Weston is. You will view his charm in an entirely new light if you know what he has done in town during the last short month."

"What has he done?"

Emma pinched out a letter from her basket and handed it to him, but retracted when he was about to take it, "Only the last paragraph, don't try to peek at other parts."

Mr. Knightley made a face, "Then you better read to me, I may not know where to look at properly."

Emma pressed the letter into his hand, "You will suspect I exaggerate."

"Hum, getting along with half London society, being talked and admired by all young ladies. Shocking!"

"Shocking? It's marvelous! You're not envying him? Are you?"

"Him, do I need to? You didn't change your idea of him, did you? You are smart Emma, your own good sense cannot endure such a cheeky politician, hypocritical, designing."

"He will be back to the North sooner or later." Emma tried to conciliate him.

"I doubt he will before getting himself advantageously married."

Emma stopped gathering her knitting did for Bella and little Emma around the room, sitting in front of him on the sofa, "If you don't like, I can stay at home till he leaves the town."

"Isabella will blame me if you don't go. Besides, I will not deprive you of your only chance to dance."

"So you go with me tomorrow?"

"Not only, I will stay through the day you come back."

"Really? Then we can take the children to the riverside, and have a picnic too!"

"As you wish!"


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for reading and reviewing and favoring and following. :D And with another story in mind, I'm getting this one done as quickly as I can. :D

* * *

"Miss Woodhouse, how glad to finally see you again."

"How do you do Mr. Wickham. You knew I'll be here tonight?"

"News spreads. Is your father in good health?"

"Yes, very well, thank you!"

"Does Mr. Knightley come with you today?"

"Yes, he is talking to his brother over there, both Mr. Knightleys rarely dance."

"I understand that Lady Caroline is very fond of your society, and her daughter is your close friend."

"Her ladyship is very kind, and Mrs. Hawthorn is amiable."

"Then you'll certainly join their tea party tomorrow afternoon?"

"Maybe not this time. Mr. Knightley stays, so we plan to take the children to a picnic tomorrow when my brother in law happens to be able to spare an afternoon, which has been expected by the boys for some days. My nieces and nephews are extremely fond of their uncle."

"Oh, then how long will you stay in town this time?"

"Three days I believe, as usual."

* * *

"You do not have any schedule to follow today!" Emma laid her fork down on the breakfast table.

"A letter just arrived this morning Emma, I should go."

"The boys have been looking forward to the picnic so keenly."

"I have taken them to the park for frogs last week when I was here, they won't be so disappointed."

"That's right, you two shouldn't spoil them too much."

Emma shot John an annoyed look, "I know you prefer home than anywhere else."

"Today is Lady Caroline's tea party day, you may not need to slight her then." said Isabella softly.

"You are solid allies, I see." Emma pouted, picking up her fork again.

"Do you need me to take you there?"

"Hypocrite, you know they always send their carriage for me."

Mr. Knightley laughed, he loved to see a slightly vexed Emma, tempting and endearing.

* * *

Emma got back to the sitting room after dressing up, Lady Caroline's carriage seemed running behind time.

"Do you think you can stay one more day Emma? I know a new tailor shop, some patterns there I think quite become you."

"I don't really like the London style, too much lace and ruffles."

"Hardly any young lady thinks that way, Emma."

Emma raised her eyebrows, "Well, maybe there's already an ambassador at Highbury, Mrs. Elton you know." She recalled Mr. Knightley's words about her, 'as elegant as lace could make her' and chuckled.

"I think Mr. Wickham is really talented in some ways." Emma started a new subject which had bothered her some time.

"You mean his popularity among the upper class during such a short time period?"

"Not only, he seems extremely good at collecting intelligence. He knows when I come, where I go, and with whom I'm associating, quite incredible." On the contrary, she thought, she knew nothing about men, of what did they talk, where did they go, and what did they do, not even about Mr. Knightley, her oldest, closest friend.

The sounds of horses out of the front door turned Isabella's reply to, "Ah, here they are, you should go."

Emma got into the luxury carriage with the help of the coachman. Mr. Knightley had gone shortly after breakfast and all Emma knew was for business.

London was large which left Emma about half an hour or more to fancy unrestrainedly, one of her enjoyments she had built up and enjoyed very much since she was young, as a blessed girl but without too many friends around.

"Excuse me Ma'am," a humble voice droning outside the carriage cut in, "I'm running terribly late today because my little girl is ill, so I'm gonna take a shortcut through this district. It's dusty and ratty outside which may disgust you young ladies, so I beg your Ma'am to keep the curtains down all through, it won't take more than a few minutes. And also may I have the guts to suppose that your Ma'am are too kind to let her Ladyship know my unpardonable actions, which will get me cast out of her house."

"Certainly I will not, don't worry, just drive on."

Emma might not notice what's outside without the man's confession, but now that an unknown world was revealed before her, there's no reason why she should not satisfy her curiosity. She pulled the drapery slightly aside and peeked out of the coach window.

It's not so dusty, the one-lane street was paved with cobblestones, even was lined with listless miscellaneous flowers. It's not literally ratty either, the facade was floridly decorated with oblique murals, windows ornamented with colored drapes, but nothing close to the elegance of Brunswick Square, or to the magnificence of Grosvenor street where she was heading, not even to the comfort of Highbury street. It's something of an ambience that's totally new to her.

Emma looked around trying to identify some signs or features that she was familiar with so she could decide what this place might be, and surpassing her wildest expectations, she did catch sight of a family figure, who was striding out of a building with forget-me-not hanging along the doorframe.

Mr. Knightley!


	6. Chapter 6

"Sorry Mr. Knightley, I didn't mean to startle you."

"What the hell are you doing here, Emma? Drive on!" He raised his voice to command the coach to resume driving. "This's not the way to Grosvenor street?"

"We're taking a shortcut."

"A shortcut? Maybe I should have a word with Lady Coraline."

"No, please! The man's daughter is sick, that's why he was running late and had to take the shortcut. He has asked my pardon and beg me not to tell Lady Caroline."

"But how dare he ... " he broke off however and clenched his jaw, "Alright, maybe we should keep this to ourselves."

"Thank you! But why are you here? Is this where your business takes place? What's that building? I never saw any neighborhood like this." Emma reached out to the window, trying another look at the street but being hindered by his grasping the curtain tightly.

"No, I'm going to my appointment now."

"Then what were you doing here, the whole morning?"

He licked his lips, "Nothing... hmm something occurred accidentally. Well Emma, I should go now, enjoy your tea." He turned and tried to stop the coach.

"Wait! What on earth have you been doing?' Emma chuckled, "I'm sure you don't want to meet with anybody like this, not to mention your business partner."

"What?" He looked puzzled.

Emma produced her pocket mirror and let he himself noticed a visible red mark on his chin.

He grabbed the mirror and muttered something inaudibly, which Emma believed to be a curse word that he should never let out of his mouth, rubbing his chin violently with his glove, not even trying to get his handkerchief out.

"Are you well, Mr. Knightley?"

"Yes," he changed the angle of the mirror to examine his appearance and apparel again carefully, then handed it back to Emma, "I must go Emma, have fun with you friends."

Emma frowned at his getting off and going away in a more sudden manner than usual, he was not himself. And when the carriage started to move again, Emma twisted and had a last look at this indescribable place.

* * *

Emma should be unhappy when the long-expected picnic was knocked out by an unscheduled bothersome business matter, but her happy disposition prevented her from taking umbrage at unnecessary trifles. Besides, she was so fond of the ladies she was to meet with this afternoon, so when a delightful few hours passed, she had been ready to share with Isabella and Mr. Knightley at dinner the newest fashion and gossip she learned from her friends.

"Dear Emma, sorry to see you go again." Mrs. Hawthorne took Emma's hand when the carriage for her was ready, "But I do have this for you."

"So pretty, what's it?" Emma took a small delicate transparent glass bottle from her friend 's palm and admired.

"The newest perfume made in Paris."

"Oh Alice, how nice you are!" Emma kissed her friend cheek-to-cheek, "But where did you get it? Is it important to you?"

"A friend gave it to my brother, and my brother gave it to me. As there're two in total, one should certainly be yours."

Emma thanked her friend warmly and departed. In the carriage she opened a little of the lid and tried it's smell, very special and pleasant indeed. But the scent seemed a little familiar to her, likely she ever came across it, just didn't remember where and when.

* * *

"Miss Woodhouse, you look great! Must enjoy your picnic yesterday very much."

"Mr. Wickham, I thought you know everything." Emma teased.

"I'm sorry?"

"We didn't go to picnic, some urgent business brought Mr. Knightley away."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Young ladies like you should always be the first priority and deserve more enjoyments apart from dances and parties."

Emma wasn't displeased with this flattery, but she felt more like defending Mr. Knightley. "I do have other enjoyments. Barring tea with friends I go to theaters, art shows, parks, historical sites and so on, the architecture and stores in town are various and charming too. I'm always happy to be here, as happy as at home at least."

"My apologies Miss Woodhouse, that's quite remarkable! I might not go to half as many the places as you do even I'm not afraid to say I have known London very well."

"You know London well, Mr. Wickham?"

"You can say that, though I'm only a newcomer."

"Then do you know a place named..." Emma hesitated but chose to finished her inquiry finally, "named Shareditch street?"

An awkward silence followed.

"Mr. Wickham?"

"Miss Woodhouse," said Mr. Wickham in a lowered voice, "I totally understand your ignorance of the name, or you no doubt will prefer some other topics."

Her face flushed crimson instantly, "I'm sorry... thank you... excuse me." Emma stuttered and curtsied embarrassedly, trotting away as quickly as she could until finding Isabella, and spending the rest of the evening close to her, sharing her conversation with Mrs. Cavendish about childcare.

On their way home and before all retired, Isabella engaged in the same topic with John. And Mr. Knightley hadn't come back from his meeting with his friends in a whist club when Emma went to bed.

Emma suffered severe insomnia for the first time.

* * *

'You look pale Emma, are you well?" Emma was late for breakfast, Isabella came upstairs to check on her and found she was sitting in front of her dressing table.

"Isabella," Emma looked at her sister in the mirror, "What is Shareditch street?"

"Where did you get that knowledge, Emma?"

"I... I heard it from others, I'm just curious."

"Who spoke it out loud in public and let you hear? Shocking！Emma, forget what you have heard, it's not a place that's supposed to be known by a young lady like you, especially when you're unmarried."

"But..." Emma felt a chill down her spine, "could you just tell ..."

"Emma!" Isabella cut her short. "Forget it!"

As a tender, affectionate elder sister, Isabella had never been strict with Emma before. And now, though Emma hadn't got her answer, she did not think she ever needed one.

"Well Emma, let's go downstairs and have some breakfast, you will feel better. The carriage will be ready soon."

"Isabella, you mentioned the day before yesterday that there's a newly-opened store right? I think I'd like to stay one more day to see if I need some new dresses."

"But George said he is to preside over a meeting this afternoon, he has to go."

"Yes, surely he should go. But you can send your carriage and servants for me tomorrow, thus father will not worry too much."

"Of course, then let's go to breakfast so you can tell him yourself."

"Uh, I just got a sudden headache this morning, I don't want to take breakfast now."

"I said you look pale, I'm calling Dr. Wingfield."

"No, there's no need, I believe I only need some sleep, I slept ill last night."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, quite! I promise you I'll be well when I get up. Please let... Mr. Knightley go by himself."

* * *

"Is Emma well?"

"She had a sudden headache."

"Headache？Have you sent for the doctor?"

"Emma refused, she said she only wanted to sleep, and let me tell you that you can go by yourself, I will send the carriage for her tomorrow."

Mr. Knightley frowned, "May I tend to her?"

"Of course."

Mr. Knightley went upstairs, taking two at a time. "Emma," he knocked at the door, "are you sure you don't need a doctor?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I'll be fine once I get some sleep. You should go by yourself."

"The meeting is to be held in the late afternoon, we still have some time, I can wait for you."

"No please, I'd like to stay one more day to see a new shop Isabella commended. She will send her carriage and a servant for me, please tell my father I'm fine and will be back tomorrow."

"Well then, take care of yourself."

"I will, good-bye!"

"Good-bye."

Mr. Knightley had bid Emma farewell but didn't leave her door. He disliked this leave-taking, no teasing, no concerns, no her beautiful, playful smiles, she did not even open the door for him!


	7. Chapter 7

"Please excuse me for a moment Mr. Knightley, you could understand the faults of the invalids like me and will not feel offended."

"Of course not my dear sir, please do not stand on ceremony with me."

Emma stood up while her father did and tried to follow him out but was stopped by what he said next and sat down again, "Emma, my daughter and substitute will be very happy to entertain you, Mr. Knightley, during my short absence."

"Undoubtedly."

And as soon as Mr. Woodhouse left the room, Mr. Knightley rose from his chair and tried to sit on the sofa next to Emma when Emma jumped to her feet and took a step back.

"What's the matter, Emma?"

"What matter?" Emma looked downward at her own shoes.

"We didn't speak for the whole week since you were back from London."

"What are you talking about Mr. Knightley? We talked to each other every day I believe."

"Yes, and always with someone else's presence, your father, Mrs. Weston, Harriet, the Bates, the Eltons, or all of them all together."

"Anything wrong with that? Isn't it what the proprieties require? Is there anything you have to say to me in private?"

"You know it's not what I mean, Emma!" said Mr. Knightley through clenched teeth.

"Excuse me Mr. Knightley, father's guests will be here soon and I must speak to Mrs. Hall and the cook now. Father will be back right away, please be seated." Emma curtsied, which she rarely did to him and hurried out of the room.

* * *

"Emma? Emma!"

"Sorry Mrs. Weston, I beg your pardon?"

"No, I didn't say anything."

"Forgive me, I'm a little distracted."

"Emma, you are preoccupied with thoughts recently, I can tell, is everything alright?"

"Mrs. Weston, is everyone what he appears to be? Is it possible that someone you think you know well differs completely from your opinion of him?"

"Emma, you are an unaffected and artless girl, it's natural for you to think all the others the same way. But I must say, maybe a little negative and imprudent, but to prevent you from being taken in easily when socializing with others, indeed there are some people who conceal a part of themselves and only show to the public what they want others to know. Mr. Elton, forgive my discourtesy, I believe, has set a telling example."

 _He has indeed._ Emma though, but not for Harriet she would not care too much about what kind of man he was. "But, will it happen to the ones close to you? The ones you have known long and well, considered to be your... good friends?

Mrs. Weston was more worried now, studying Emma's anxious eyes, asked she softly, "What makes you ask, Emma?"

"I... I read a novel these days, the plots and the characters of it are quite complex, I just cannot stop pondering over it.

"Emma," Mrs. Weston smiled, more indulgently than disapprovingly, "reading is a good hobby, but perhaps you should read more what Mr. Knightley recommended. Back to your question, I would say, though it's rare, it happens. But, of course the conduct is wrong per se, sometimes it's not totally inexcusable, maybe subjecting to the conditions, or maybe the wrongdoer is only trying to spare you the anxiety about things beyond your understanding, with goodwill."

"Have you ever met anyone like this?"

With a wry smile, replied Mrs. Weston, "Have you forgotten yet, Emma? I was just referring to Frank."

 _Yes Frank Churchill!_ she had forgiven him and never thought again about it. His conduct was excusable, but if she or anyone else had ever fallen in love with him, it would not be pardonable. So it did happen, the evil concealment or deceit among intimate friends, relations or even families.

"Speaking of Frank, he and Jane will arrive this Friday. Mrs. Cole insists on holding a dinner party for them, you will come too, won't You?"

"Of course I will."

* * *

Jane looked radiant. Emma hardly believed that she had ever been considered as being reserved. No matter how many defects Frank Churchill might have, he was sincere to Jane and had kept his word of treating her well. Emma congratulated her genuinely on her coming wedding next month and ended their conversation when Jane was entreated to play and sing.

Emma sighed inwardly and turned, intending to join Mrs. Weston or Harriet somewhere in the room, but being startled by the silhouette standing behind her. She swallowed the playful blame of "You scared me" when recognizing it was Mr. Knightley and tried to get past him.

"Emma, give me a minute, please." In the dim light he looked haggard, more distinctly to Emma when she hadn't looked at him carefully for at least two weeks.

"Emma, I know you're avoiding me."

"I'm not."

"You are, don't try to deny it. You altered your habits, adjusted your timetable. You come downstairs later than your father everyday now which never happened before. Moreover you invited Harriet to stay at Hartfield so that you can keep a companion every single moment."

"What's your point?"

"Is it about Mr. Wickham?"

"It has nothing to do with him."

"All right, at least you admit there's something here. So could you tell me Emma? What's in your mind? Whatever it is, trust me, I promise you I can solve it, just please talk to me."

…

"Say it, Emma."

Emma shuddered, eyes welling with tears, "No, nothing." and ran away.

"Emma!"

* * *

"Hey Larkins, could you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Could you figure out some way to let his master eat something?" looking at the untouched supper in his hands, Riley asked worriedly.

"Beats me. He didn't look over his accounts for weeks, I don't know what else is more important to him than that."

"Alas, I always complained before that he ate too much at Hartfield, now I'd rather he go every day. Better eating out every day than eating nothing at home."

* * *

"Emma my dear, you don't go see Isabella this month?"

"Papa, would you consider sending your carriage for me? James will take care of me and nothing unpleasant will happen. It's only sixteen miles."

"Are you saving you will go by yourself? Certainly not! Do you know how fearful I was when last time you came back alone? Why doesn't Mr. Knightley go with you? He always went with you and was so kind to take you back every time."

"He… he is extremely busy these days, cannot spare the time. It's fine, I will stay at home with you Papa."

"I heard Mr. Weston mentioned yesterday that Mr. Wickham will come to visit him this Friday, and will stay the night at Randalls?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weston is preparing a dinner party for him."

"Emma my dear, why don't you invite Mr. Wickham to dine at Hartfield? This is a house three times bigger than theirs."

Emma did not have the mood to make any arrangements out of the ordinary, but she would disappoint her father in no case. "Well Papa, I will talk to Mrs. Weston that they should all dine at Hartfield."

"Don't forget my old friends."

"Certainly I will not Papa, Mrs. and Miss Bates, Mrs. Goddard."

"Very well my dear."

* * *

Mr. Knightley had to admit he should not be surprised when Mr. Wickham got along with anyone. He did have the talent to make himself popular wherever he went. He talked with the Westons of Frank, with the Bates of Jane, with Mr. Woodhouse, of course, of Emma and Isabella, with Mrs. Goddard of his own time as a pupil, and told Harriet the legends and tales he gathered on his travels. And with the aid of his handsome feature and amiable manner, he readily became the star of this small community, everyone paid attention to him, everyone was eager to speak to him.

Mr. Knightley didn't care about it at all however, it's none of his business. He sat in a corner quietly like a stranger, or a fifth wheel to the coach, looking at them indifferently as if from a parallel universe. But there's one thing which did matter to him and tormented him greatly- Mr. Wickham could make Emma smile, and he, Mr. Knightley, could not.

He glanced at him casually, with a look of triumph.

* * *

Although not sure whether he was still welcome to Hartfield, he just could not help making his way to it. And fortunately Mr. Woodhouse was hospitable as usual, "Mr. Knightley, how kind you are to come. I thought you are busily engaged right now."

"Busy? Why Sir?"

"Emma said your hands are extremely full these days."

"Is she at home?"

"No, she set off for London earlier this morning."

"London! Alone?"

"No, Mr. Knightley, how could so young a girl travel alone? She said you're busy and not free to go so she would like to stay at home with me. But I just found lately that she was not happy which must be the consequence of being restricted at home. So when Mr. Wickham happened to come and was so kind to agree to escort her, I sent the carriage for them this morning."

 _Emma and Mr. Wickham?_ Mr. Knightley stiffened, _No!_


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for the reviews which are really inspiring. Yes it's unconvincing for Mr. Knightley not realizing why Emma snubs him, after all he is considered smarter. So I modified some of his words in part 3, chapter 7 to make it more ambiguous. :D

* * *

Mr. Knightley wasted no time getting back to Abbey and setting out for London. He was well aware of how much his appearance would vex Emma when she so desperately tried to get rid of him, but by no means he would leave her to the power of Mr. Wickham.

Besides, clenching his jaw, too absorbed in thoughts to even keep his balance on horseback, he determined he must have a talk with her this time at whatever cost.

He was mildly mollified when arriving Brunswick Square and finding Emma wasn't out but stayed at home with the two youngests. The others had gone to a scheduled luncheon. Emma explained her no-notice arrival and offered to stay in to look after little George and baby Emma.

When he found her in a smaller morning room, she was doing nothing but sitting by the window and staring blankly out. And as expected, she looked agitated and harassed when he appeared at the door.

"Emma."

She looked back out of the window.

"Emma, we need to talk." He approached her.

Emma got up instinctively and tried to get out of the room, but he shifted and blocked her way, "Emma, I must talk to you."

Emma ignored him and kept up her way out while he got to the door before her and clicked it locked.

"Mr. Knightley!" Snapped Emma unbelievably, "do you know what you are doing? How dare you..."

"I'm sorry, I'll apologize later, whatever... But I'm not letting you go this time if you don't listen to me."

"I must go, little George needs me."

"No he doesn't, I do!" With a pause he lowered his voice and continued softly, "Emma, I know what you are thinking, it's ..."

"No, I'm thinking nothing, please don't judge me!"

"Then why are you treating me like this? You don't talk to me. You don't look at me. You'd rather that Mr. Wickham accompany you than have me sit with you in the same carriage, tell me why!"

...

"Emma you're crying. I know you don't want us to end up like this either, do you? Anything you want to know, just ask me. Whatever it is, I promise I won't lie to you. Just say it Emma, please!"

 _Ask him?_

 _What if he said it's nothing, common in men's world, she was astonished only because she never heard of such things before, just like what she overheard that day from those ladies, who was talking about affairs, cheating on partners and pursuing young girls for pleasure so indifferently as though they were not talking about even their own husbands._

 _What if he excused men by saying they were not serious, it's only something about masculine needs, after all he was all alone all these years, but should that be understood and accepted?_

 _What if he apologized and promised it would never happen again, if he still cared about her feelings, should it be forgiven and forgotten then as if nothing had ever happened?_

 _No, definitely not! She had known him and looked up to him all her life, had trusted and loved him all her life, she was completely sure she would lose him forever if all this was true._

 _She had told herself over and over again that she shouldn't suspect him and she genuinely hated to, but why wouldn't he tell her what he was doing in that building at that place the whole morning? Why was he so astounded when running into her as if he had seen a ghost? Why did he so easily agree to keep the secret if he really believed the coachman was unforgivable to take her there? What was that suspicious red mark on his chin, and why did he act completely out of character when she told him of it? And why did he smell like a perfume made for lady when getting into her carriage back then? Yes, she had eventually recollected where she ever came across that special fragrance of that new launched Parisian perfume Alice presented her, it was brought by Mr. Knightley in that exact morning at Shareditch street, and at that time she only thought it to be the scent of some street flowers with which she was not familiar._

 _Would he make a perfect excuse for all this? And if he did, denied, declaring all were misunderstandings, there's no_ _disgracefulness at all, could she just take his words and be fully convinced? How likely would she doubt not only his conducts, but his words and sincerity as well? She had no idea! She wanted to trust him, to rebuild her faith in him, but she was very well aware that things simply couldn't go back the way they were. The old days between them had gone, and gone forever._

 _Whatever he chose to say, confession or denial, the situation couldn't be better than what it had been now. She would rather stay where they were than risk the possibility of losing him forever which was the last thing she could ever bear._

"No, I have nothing to ask. I don't care what you've done or what you'll do, just let me out." She reached one hand out to the door handle while the other wiped away tears.

"No!" He grabbed her wrist to stop her and forced her to face him.

"Let go of me! What are you doing?" Emma struggled violently, "Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me again!"

 _What?_ He let her go unconsciously, just realizing how disgusting he had become to her now. _Don't ever touch me again?_

She grew up in his arms. He carried her everyday when she was a little girl. Even after she became of age, she never felt awkward or offended whenever he took her arm or held her hands even barehanded. There was a natural and chaste intimacy between them which he loved, esteemed and treasured. He'd like to preserve this sentiment forever if necessary.

But he had long known his feelings for her, not certain since when, maybe the moment of sudden realization of how ridiculously he was holding grudges against all the young men around her, the better they were, the more he hated. Yet Emma was beautiful, lively and young, she had the right to enjoy her blooming life, deserved to be admired and courted by the opposite sex. He loved her so he wanted her to be happy. If any worthy young man could make her happier than he did, he believed he could conceal his feelings and kept looking after her as only an elder brother.

However, when months and years had lapsed, he joyfully discovered that Emma never was really attached to any other man, although a few could be considered excellent even to his opinion. On the contrary, he himself seemingly held a special place in her heart, a place next only to her dearest father. Maybe it's not the same kind of affection he expected, but it gave him hope. Who said he couldn't be the very one who was truly blessed to finally win her?

In fact, he had been preparing for the moment of his confession. For several times he might have asked her if he could be more gallant. And although they were still just friends for now, he had been so used to dreaming of their future. In those dreams there was always a great fire, in front of which Emma and he sat shoulder to shoulder on the sofa. One or two boys bustled around while a pretty little girl, as beautiful and mischievous as her mother, nestled in his arms, listening to Emma telling her the tale of Prince and Princess. And when the story came to the Princess falling in love with the gallant Prince, Emma would looked up at him. And whenever she looked at him like that, he could not help but kiss her, ardently and contentedly...

A burning sharp pain in his left cheek dragged him back to the cruel reality, where there's no fire, no cuddle, no children, no future... all he possessed was Emma's tears, shock, anger, disbelief and despair. And when she finally yanked the door open and ran away, he lost all his strength to stop her once again.

Slumping into the sofa, he buried his face in his hands. _Gosh,_ w _hat have I done?_

If he had ever any chance to win her back, he had ruined it once and for all. What he did just now was nothing but a solid testimony to his accusation.

Yet, laughing wryly at himself, he discovered that at least he had achieved his goal set in the morning - at whatever cost, he would get her to talk. And she did, when so furiously slapping him across the face.

 _Do you think I'm the same kind of woman that you can kiss when you need and want?_

* * *

Disappointed? The slap, just this! :D

But I love him too much to let him do anything really wicked to Emma.


	9. Chapter 9

"What can I do for you, Sir?" Staring greedily at the one hundred pound laying before him, a shrewd slender man asked cap in hand.

"I need words from these two people. The stories, names, when, where, how... everything they can tell." A gentleman in a greyish-green tail pulled another one hundred out of his pocket, "You can have one more once getting what I want."

"Thank you Sir, you'll have everything you need before sunset."

"Good."

* * *

"Emma my dear, are your crying? What's the matter?"

"No Papa, I'm not crying. I just yawned, a little tired, don't worry." Emma forced a smile at her father, as bright as she could make it.

"Oh, that's very well. But how long haven't we seen Mr. Knightley?"

"Two weeks and one day, Papa."

"And no one knows where he is. It's very odd, very unusual. Didn't he tell you where he went, my dear?"

"No Papa, he didn't."

Isabella had told her he left John a note in his study, only saying he got matters to deal with and would be back once done, nothing else. And she had been fighting back the urge of presuming where he was and what he was doing, as the conclusion seemed obvious and disagreeable to her. But though it's as preposterous as it could be, she couldn't help fearing that he might never come back.

She got a lump in her throat with that thought and turned immediately to the door lest her father see and worry.

"Ma'am," A housemaid ran into her at the doorway, "Mrs. Weston sent a note just now."

Emma wiped her eyes quickly with the back of her hand and, with a little surprise, as she just left a little while ago, took a piece of folded paper which read:

"My dear Emma,

Be not alarmed, nothing bad happened. But I'll be very happy if you could come to Randalls tomorrow at 11 am.

Yours ever

A.W."

Usually they spent afternoons and sometimes evenings together like today, but anything which could distract her from her thoughts was welcome.

* * *

"Good morning Miss Woodhouse, this way please." Hannah led Emma to a small cosy chamber adjacent to the drawing room, where tea and refreshments and a few netting patterns were available. "Mrs. Weston begged you to pardon her, and said these could entertain you for a moment. She should be here very soon."

"Thank you Hannah, it's fine."

When Hannah withdrew, Emma opened one pattern book, picked up a half-done purse and resumed netting it following the techniques the book showed, making herself too absorbed to even notice how much time had passed.

* * *

"Mr. Knightley? I didn't expect to see you here. How do you do."

"Mr. Wickham, please be seated." Glancing at him, Mr. Knightley gestured to the sofa opposite himself.

"Is Mr. Weston home?" Mr. Wickham looked around when taking his seat.

"No, he went to Kingston early this morning."

"I suppose he is waiting for me at this moment." Said Mr. Wickham, puzzled.

"No, he isn't." Enjoying his confusion for a second, Mr. Knightley continued, "I wrote the letter. Is it a new trick to you, Mr. Wickham?"

"I don't understand, Mr. Knightley."

"Well then, let's talk about something you understand. How is your progress in courting Miss Woodhouse?"

"I believe, Mr. Knightley, there're some misunderstandings here."

"Really? To my knowledge, you used to linger around Derbyshire and Ramsgate where another young lady with thirty thousand pounds resides, not London and Highbury. And unfortunately for you, of course, that young lady has a very capable elder brother."

Mr. Wickham's typical taking smile died away. Narrowing his eyes, he stated, "It seems you have some power and resources, Mr. Knightley."

"You are correct, I do have some. And I also have some knowledge that you don't know and I'd like to share with you."

"I'm all ears."

"These two young ladies do have some things in common. They are both beautiful, lovely, amiable and rich of course, the crucial quality to you. But Miss Woodhouse is a few years older which inevitably presents her with a much better sense. To be honest, Mr. Wickham, and I believe you have sensed it more or less yourself, a man like you isn't someone who could ever gain her affections."

"It seems you were, Mr. Knightley." He sneered.

Pausing with an invisible bitterness, "You are correct again, Mr. Wickham, I was."

"Oh, what a pity."

"Actually you know that, my existence leaves you no chance of succeeding, or you needn't frame me. And I must confess, Mr. Wickham, I never liked you, but I did have underestimated you. You are a very able man, resourceful, patient and precise."

"I feel a sense of obligation to express my gratitude, Mr. Knightley, though I cannot agree with you on my accusal."

"Mr. Wickham, your scheme at Highbury has soundly come to an end given the exposure of your last try. You know what is following if you keep harassing Miss Woodhouse. So why don't we just speak man to man? My intention of this conversation is not only to warn you to stay away from Miss Woodhouse, but to some extent for my own sake- there're some specifics I can't figure out and I believe you would like to enlighten me at this point."

"Why wouldn't you accept the established fact, Mr. Knightley? Hapless things happen, you know. Maybe you were just unlucky, falling on tough days."

"I used to think it that way, but some trifles came up and raised my suspicion."

"What trifles?"

"Back then when I arrived Mr. Sinnott's, he greeted me with 'How kind you are to even think of me!'. It's not something someone who invites will normally say, isn't it? So I called on him again and it turned out that he didn't write me a letter, but received one from me. It's very seasoned of you to pick out someone I know but not well so I couldn't recognize his handwriting."

"Anyone could have written the letters you just mentioned."

"Of course, but I have two more witnesses, a woman who bumped against my horse and a coachman who took advantage of Miss Woodhouse's compassion. I don't know how much you paid them, but obviously I paid more, so they have identified you among a few young men's portraits."

Mr. Wickham shifted in his seat.

"There's one thing I particularly desire to know, Mr. Wickham. How did you arrange the timing so that I walked out of that building the exact moment Miss Woodhouse passed by?"

Mr. Wickham was holding back.

"I can find it out anyway, asking the witness again for instance. But I suppose you may like to tell me yourself. You certainly have lost the opportunity to move into the neighborhood as Mr. Woodhouse once expected, but you lose nothing either. And to me...everything. So still you win. Then don't you want to celebrate your triumph by beating your opponent to his face?"

"I know you well." Finally Mr. Wickham decided to talk, disdainfully. "A true gentleman, as you people think you are, will never abandon an injured woman, especially when he might be the cause, whatever she is, wherever she lives. But he will go off as fast as he can when she tries to seduce him by throwing herself into his arms. So the only thing needed to be done was pulling back a curtain across the street when Miss Woodhouse's carriage came into sight."

With a loud bang bursting out, a door of an adjacent room was cracked open. The two gentlemen rose to their feet instinctively at the sight of a lady appeared behind it.

"Miss Woodhouse!" Mr. Wickham alternated his eyes incredulously between her and Mr. Knightley, turning deadly pale.

Emma glared at him with a burning fire in her eyes when striding towards him, but Mr. Knightley stepped up and blocked her way. He wrapped one arm around her back to keep her half in his arms, but spoke to Mr. Wickham firmly with his back to him,

"Mr. Wickham, I, the master of this district, should like to announce that you are not allowed to come to Donwell and Highbury ever again, nor to stand on or pass through any inch of my land, or you will be sorry. Now, you can get out!"

* * *

"You still have nothing to say to me."

"...Why did you stop me just now?"

"What would you do if I didn't?"

"Surely I would smack him in his face, how dare he set you..."

"No, surely you shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"How could he deserve the same treatment as I did."

"... Did it hurt?"

"Yes, it did."

"... You deserved it."

"I didn't say I didn't."

"... I'm sorry. I shouldn't mistrust you."

"No, you shouldn't."

"... Will you forgive me?"

"... I will not."

"... I shouldn't complain, you have good reason to be resentful."

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

"You will forgive me in return if I forgive you."

"So you don't want me to forgive you?"

"No, I don't."

"Alright then, let's hate each other forever..."

"No, that's not possible, we shall never be enemies."

"Then what's your point?"

"I have a perfect solution. Uh...You see, if you consent to marry me, I'll be too grateful to you to hold any grudge. And if you marry me, what I did will not be considered a horrible offence any more. Then, all problems solved."

...

"Of course, if you think it's a terrible idea, just take it as a bunch of nonsense. Certainly I will forgive you, anything. As to my misdemeanor, I promise it's only between you and me. And I swear it will never happen again..."

...

"What, why are you smiling like that?"

"I have imagined dozens of different ways how you may ask me, but none of them is like this."

"You... imagined my proposal? Since when?"

...

"Tell me, Emma!"

"... Since the day I played with wedding dolls under the table maybe, but I never took it seriously. We are oldest friends you know, it's too strange to even think about it."

"Isabella is John's oldest friend, older than we are."

"Hmm, you have a point. I cannot argue with that."

"So you will not slap me again, will you?"

"Of course not."

"Then I can safely kiss you now?"

"Certainly not!"

"... What if I do?"

...

* * *

Thanks for reading! :D


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